Fall in love in a weekwe get by

– Don't look so closely. Say hello and run to sort out the mail. Come on, "good morning, Professor Norwood"!

“Good morning, Professor Norwood,” I repeated like a parrot and ran to the table on which was piled an uneven stack of newspapers, letters and parcels. If this is mail in one day, how does he still manage to teach?!

“Suspicious punctuality,” this doctor-professor muttered under his breath. He didn’t even raise his head from the newspaper. – I'm waiting for a package from the Munich Academy, look.

“Look,” Charlotte ordered. -Can you identify the German?

– I…

– Answer mentally.

“I know a little German.”

– Fine. Search.

The voluminous package was found in the very middle of the stack – judging by the weight and format, two or three rather thick magazines. Under Charlotte's guidance, she also selected several letters from regular correspondents. I put it on the professor's desk. She paused slightly – now, although from an unfortunate angle, it was possible to see her face.

Well, nothing special. A man is like a man. About thirty years old, probably. Too pale to be a hot brunette – maybe he doesn’t stick his nose out at all? Clean shaven, neat – and I already imagined a classic “mad genius”, always disheveled and unkempt. He suddenly looked up from the newspaper and looked up at me. Dark, even scary.

– If you need something, tell me quickly. Don't loom.

Zar-r-raza!

– I wanted to remind you that the first couple… – “Charlotte! Who is our first couple? Fast!" “Healers, first course,” she prompted. I picked up: “Healers, first year.” If you have something important…

– When I fall into insanity, you will be the first to know about it. In the meantime, please get down to business.

"Hopelessly!" – I said with feeling, almost shying away from his table. Contrary to my expectations, Charlotte remained silent.

Until the end of the working day – and this, by the way, is four couples, plus a long lunch break, and several hours of consultations after! – I heard exactly three more phrases from him. “Send this by express mail.” “No, and stop distracting me already!” – in response to the offered coffee. And “Don’t forget to close the door,” to my “Goodbye, Professor Norwood.”

“What was that all about? – I asked Charlotte, going out into the street and exposing my face to the cold evening wind. – Something like “Get out of my sight”? Or a hint that without direct instructions I’m not even able to close the door?”

– He doesn't like open doors. And that Charlotte didn’t like closed ones. Well… – she seemed to think, – sometimes it’s better to have at least some kind of reaction than total indifference. That's what it seemed to me.

“I'm sorry, friend. About indifference. Familiar." “I tried to let my hair down, but the hairstyle, held together by magic, did not budge.

“Don’t think,” prompted Charlotte, “Just believe that it will work out.”

I wanted to say that it’s not so easy to believe if you never… but while I was looking for words, suddenly it really happened. As if by itself.

The wind caught the freed strands and tangled them. Fine! How tired your head is from pulled hair! And why was it necessary to collect them in a bundle if throughout the whole day I didn’t even see a single potion that I could hypothetically ruin?

– You'll see again. You have not yet been to his personal academic laboratory, nor to the general student laboratory.

I've never been anywhere before! The first day of seven passed – it was like falling into an abyss. Into the abyss. I sat with my nose in the mail, again running through the mail and the schedule. At lunch, when the professor had gone somewhere, I secretly looked at the magazine he had left on the table. The same one from Munich. A bunch of chemical formulas, half a page each. I very hesitantly identified the simplest of them as “some kind of horror from organic chemistry,” but mostly there was “some kind of basically unknowable horror.”

“A couple of dozen people in the world will fully understand this,” said Charlotte. – Not more. Higher magic applied to elixirs.

A day to nowhere. A day in which there was not even time to think about the almost hopeless quest “mutual love in a week.” And it’s good that it wasn’t found. Because now I understand very clearly that I want to live. I want it unbearably. Much stronger than I thought before. After all, what really matters is not that the only thing waiting at home is the neighbor’s cat! But this wind, which Charlotte probably no longer feels. Distant Sydney, which seems to remain an unfulfilled dream. A million everyday unnoticed little things that turn out to be significant when you lose them. A life where you can dream about the future, plan or just wait, knowing for sure that you have it. A present, long and preferably happy future, not a measly six days and one evening!

And a new world, full of wonders – I’ve only, one might say, looked through a crack, I haven’t seen anything yet, but I already want to get comfortable here and figure it out! Magic. Real magic, not faked by scammers. One step – and you are even in another city, even on the other side of the world! No crowding in the subway, no fear of plane crashes. A couple of waves of your hand – and order is in your head and in your house. What then can be created with really serious effort?!

The snatches of conversations that were snatched out of my ear – at lunch, in the dining room, and between couples while I was running around changing the schedule – turned out to be almost completely incomprehensible to me. They discussed the features of some phases in some rituals, and whether they change when Latin is replaced by Greek or Sanskrit. They complained about the failure of the harvest of some creeping rotten plants – honestly, I would not be upset about the failure of something with such an unappetizing name! They complained about Professor Krushanski, who failed almost the entire group in the test – this misfortune would have been quite understandable if not for the topic of the test: “The influence of seismic activity of magical territories on the development of the population of ordinary sensoria.” What is this sensory? Does it have anything to do with sensors or just sounds similar? Charlotte, overhearing my bewilderment, explained mysteriously:

– Dr. Krushanski is a leading expert on population dynamics, but his theory of seismic stability control is considered by many to be unproven.

“You have a medical academy? – I was surprised. “What does population and especially seismic activity have to do with it?”

“Sensory,” Charlotte explained. – A rare and valuable ingredient, found only in seismically unstable areas. Foretells earthquakes, eruptions and other cataclysms by explosive reproduction. That is, Krushanski thinks so. He invites all those who disagree to settle somewhere on the slope of Krakatoa or Mauna Loa and check it out personally.

In short, there would be enough new interesting topics in this world for me to last for years and years. ? here…

Stop. I don’t even know for sure…

“Charlotte, listen! Did you say a week?

– Yes. Do you have memory problems?

“Happy calendar! – I snapped. – How is this week counted? Since this morning? Since the beginning of the day? How much time do I have, exactly?”

Charlotte didn't answer right away. She hung there, swaying in the wind, like a translucent wet sheet, and was silent. I waited, getting more and more nervous. Did she just now think about it and decide to count? Or doesn't she know?

Finally she answered:

“Everything went wrong from the second phase of the ritual.” The second phase necessarily begins exactly at midnight. But I remembered it well. This means from midnight or a little later, when this body was left without a soul.

Wonderful. Minus the night. Although… to be honest, what could happen at night? Whether Dr. Norwood was some kind of cheerful partygoer, or a Casanova who doesn’t miss a single skirt, much less such outstanding tits, or at least a lover of night walks arm in arm with his assistant, it’s a different matter. But you can hardly count on communication with this cracker outside of working hours.

Hopelessly. Hopelessly.

“Charlotte,” I asked, quickly wiping away a treacherous tear, “let’s go home.”

“Go, you know how,” she responded. I pulled back the invisible curtain and stepped…

***

Unlike quick breakfasts, Charlotte didn’t bother with dinners. No stock of food in the magical analogue of the refrigerator, not even some yesterday's soup.

“The person I was before preferred to buy ready-made,” Charlotte explained. – Easier. She had enough money, but she didn’t like to tinker in the kitchen.

– I don’t like it either, although in this we are similar. So, explain what and how you are doing here.

I examined the contents of her – now my – purse back at lunch; there was a wallet, in it – unfamiliar coins and a thick pack of plastic cards. Two bank ones and a bunch of bonus ones. By the way, I received a free lunch for employees by presenting my key fob. More precisely, by applying it to the identification plate at the checkout. Comfortable. But they didn’t serve dinner in the academic canteen.

“Order here,” the ghost chose a card with a delicious picture of pizza. – You're hungry, and they have fast delivery. Just pick it up and think about the menu, a communication window will open.

What can I say – it’s more convenient than the phone and even the Internet! I chose a large pizza with mushrooms and a salad, added fruit juice to my order, and at the last moment added beer. I don’t like him too much, but it’s a shame to end up in another world and not be able to compare? Moreover, there may be very little time for comparison.

Thoughts turned to the professor. While I very much doubted that I would be able not only to make him fall in love with me, but even to fall in love myself. He didn’t evoke any disgust or rejection, but he didn’t evoke any positive emotions either. Demanding, corrosive boss. He nitpicks over little things. He’s not rude, but… honestly, it would be better to be rude! If I had been a little more impressionable, his chillingly polite remarks could have brought me to tears. Noticeably distances himself. This is reasonable behavior for a boss, but it makes my task even more impossible. As if it weren’t already almost impossible!

Just one day – and even in my thoughts I call this cracker exclusively a professor! An amazing start to a romantic love story.

– Tell about him.

“You’ve already seen it,” it seems, this was an objection. Or surprise? In general, I understood that the ghost considers the information given out in the morning to be exhaustive and is not eager to repeat it.

–What kind of person is he? – I decided to be persistent – in the end, my life or death may well depend on the exact answer! – The world's luminary – understandable. Head of the department – I've seen enough today. But if you put the scientist, the boss and the teacher aside, what remains? It is not the doctor and the professor who should fall in love, but Dougal Norwood. And the doctor and professor did not inspire me either. Maybe the person will be more interesting.

Charlotte froze, perhaps even froze in place, as if plunged into deep thought. It looked, frankly, scary. Not only is it a ghost, but also a motionless ghost in the middle of a nice little kitchen, flooded with sunset light from the windows.

– Hey! – I couldn’t stand it. – Are you still here?

“It’s strange,” she finally woke up, floated across the kitchen and hovered by the window. – The man Dougal Norwood is not in Charlotte's memories. Doctor, luminary, boss, man, but all this is very general, schematic. Dislikes public speaking, students, almost everyone, with rare exceptions, open doors and tea. It seems that's it.

– Few. – Actually, practically nothing: I already understood about the doors, but inviting the professor to tea… well, it’s already clear that it’s a failed idea. – What does he like?

– Brew potions. But this is already clear,” Charlotte paused, as if she was listening to something or really carefully examining the living memory of who she was before. – Silence. Your own personal laboratory. Still a mother. Yes, Mrs. Norwood comes here often, I remember something like this… Lemon cinnamon pudding. The last time Charlotte ordered in advance was in London.

Hopeless, I thought for the hundredth time. Even if he is not a mama’s boy, but just a man who loves his mother, it doesn’t matter. Worst competition ever. Especially if the man is one of those “married to his work.”

– Sydney.

– No. I'll try to find out more. Need time. Can you cope here without me?

– How can we cope? Dinner will be brought. I'll find a bedroom.

– Fine. – Charlotte disappeared again, like yesterday in the ritual room. And I suddenly thought that I didn’t even know where her front door was, let alone open it. And she went looking. And in general – look around.

It is unlikely that Charlotte was particularly neat – I did not notice that special, ideally symmetrical order that is achieved only by boring pedantry. A winter coat was still hanging in the hallway, and closed shoes were next to sandals. But the cleanliness reigned in perfection – of course, if it can be achieved with a wave of the hand. Millions of housewives will envy them with black envy…

The front door opened with a light touch, although it was locked – I heard a quiet click of the lock. The door, by the way, was unusual, although in London you can sometimes see such in old houses. With a square viewing window covered with a bronze grille and a bronze door knocker, polished to a red shine, in the form of a coiled dragon. But I didn’t find a bell, a very ordinary doorbell. What is it – guests are knocking here? And how, I wonder, can you hear from the second floor?

From the outside, the cottage looked like a fairy tale house. The red brick was barely visible through the green ivy and blooming climbing roses, white and deep scarlet. The small front garden is full of flowers – tall mallows, bright multi-colored phlox, a Chinese lilac bush, asparagus lace and bluish hosta leaves, lush petunias and nasturtiums in flowerpots floating in the air without any noticeable support… Magic? For some reason I couldn’t believe that Charlotte had created such beauty herself. Very thoughtful combinations of colors, the work of a garden designer is visible. And how to take care of all this? It seems that, in addition to watering, you need some kind of fertilizing? I'll have to ask. In a week, if…

The sun was falling behind the hilly horizon. The scarlet sunset evoked thoughts that were very far from optimistic. “So where is the vaunted fast delivery?” I returned to the house in irritation.

The order was waiting on the table in the living room. Pizza, fruit drink, beer. Advertising booklet. What, no couriers? What about payment? Okay, questions can be put off until Charlotte returns. I'll go find a glass. I'll be drinking booze down my throat in a week. Not earlier.

The beer turned out to be unusual, with an islandy-bitter aftertaste. But it pleasantly coated the tongue, was cold and softly hit the head – what else do you need, one wonders, in another world, in someone else’s house and with a piece of hot pizza in your hand. But it ended unexpectedly quickly, so I went to explore the second floor only with pizza – it was definitely tastier than anything I had tried before, “impossible to put down,” as they say in the advertisement. And why didn’t I order two at once? Although who’s stopping you from repeating it tomorrow?

On the second floor, in addition to Charlotte’s bedroom and the guest room, there was a rather strange room, which, apparently, was intended as an office with a library. But Charlotte's entire library consisted of a stack of glossy magazines and several romance novels in paperback, travel format – books that you wouldn't mind forgetting on the train. As for the office, it seems that she fulfilled and exceeded the daily work quota during the day, and preferred to relax at home. But how to relax… I looked in confusion at a piece of floor about two by two yards, covered with something like rubber stitched with metal. For some reason there was no desire to attack there. What could it be? Whatever! From a treadmill to a magical version of some hellish computer shooter. ? black matte wall opposite? Very similar to the screen of a turned off TV or laptop! Not counting the size – if this is really a screen, then it will be of the “mega-cool home theater” class.

– To enable or not to enable? – the last piece of pizza went into my stomach with pleasant satiety, and I waved my hand: – ?, tomorrow!

The screen lit up.

“Tomorrow we will have a pleasant sunny day,” the announcer said. Her trouser suit, azure with a turquoise tint, would do justice to the trends of the season, and her smile would serve as an excellent advertisement for some advanced magical dentistry. – No precipitation, northwest wind, from weak to moderate. Air temperature at night…

“To hell with the weather,” I said gloomily. After all, I wasn’t going to turn it on at all! Although now at least it is clear that this is a TV, and not some…

– event poster? – asked the doll-announcer.

– Turn off. I have to go to work.

I got there and I’m arguing with the TV! What's next? Will the washing machine enslave me, or what replaces them here? By the way, you should check your wardrobe. It looks like a closet in the bedroom.

The TV turned off as soon as I stepped beyond the threshold of the room. Apparently, before this happy moment, he hoped that I would change my mind…

The closet was bursting with a wide variety of clothes. But, in the best tradition of jokes, my first reaction was a classic feminine one:

– There’s nothing to wear!

Charlotte clearly spared no expense on the latest fashionable items. Although I had a hard time imagining how they would fit with the chilly autumn weather: slush, rain and fog. Short flared skirts and open sundresses, tight T-shirts and tops. A dozen cocktail and evening dresses – too open, provocatively revealing. Everything is bright, evoking thoughts of the beach, dance parties and even dates. Yes, probably this fuchsia color should suit me – I held the dress to me and nodded approvingly, looking in the mirror. Or that cornflower blue one… But, my God, not for work!

Trousers were conditionally suitable for work – conditionally, because I would have preferred black or neutral beige, rather than the red-brown ones I was wearing today, or the bright blue, olive and crimson ones hanging in the closet. Raspberry pants! Nightmare!

And not a single one, NOT ONE! Classic blouse. Not white or anything like that.

Yes, if you show up at the department in this crimson horror and sticking beacon… It’s surprising that the professor is only hiding behind a newspaper, in his place I would probably crawl under the table.

Decidedly going downstairs to the bonus cards scattered all over the table, I found a business card of either an atelier or a boutique – I didn’t even bother to look into it. She squeezed, desperately thinking about a strict work outfit – black trousers of a classic cut, a white blouse – fitted, tailored to the figure, but closed and modest.

It jerked as if someone had roughly pulled my hand. And I ended up… apparently still in the studio. A rack with fabric samples, a display case with buttons, lace, fasteners…

And either the hostess or the master, plump, at first glance, attractive to me, who smiled affably at me and asked with frank curiosity:

– Miss Blair? What's wrong?! So suddenly – and so strikingly different from your usual orders!

“I want to impress a man with certain tastes,” I answered honestly. It is always better to hide the big truth, putting forward a small and not the most important part of it…

– Oh-oh-oh… I understand! Now we’ll dress you up, Miss Blair, no doubt, the chosen one will be impressed and smitten.

“Oh yes, I’m smitten,” I thought gloomily. Meanwhile, I found myself standing on the same platform from which I almost shied away from at home – and opposite, another Charlotte Blair wove out of thin air. Like in a mirror, but three-dimensional. And already on her materialized the same blouse I had presented and black formal trousers – a little narrower than I wanted, but they emphasized her figure so well that I could not resist and nodded.

“We need to change the top,” the master shook her head (still a master? And what a shame, I have no idea how to address her, but Charlotte probably knows!). – Like this, look.

The darts at the waist lengthened, and the blouse fit exactly to the figure, almost the same shape as all of Charlotte's beacons. The turn-down collar was replaced by a stand-up collar, the top buttons were not a cutout, but… as if in a hurry, they simply weren’t fastened all the way. The strict style has become defiantly sexy. No, it’s not suitable for work… But I couldn’t refuse.

– Great, but a strict classical one is also needed.

“Strict classical ones can be very different,” the master smiled. – Let's see what suits you best.

The next hour – no less! – we went through the styles. In the end, my eyes were filled with ruffles, inserts, embroideries, brooches… But the main thing is that I really couldn’t choose! Almost everything looked simply wonderful. Even immediately excluding models with lots of lace and puffy collars, I was literally torn. Until she mentally waved her hand: Charlotte’s account did not allow for such excesses, she said that day: “Manage your money boldly, Charlotte never lived only on her salary. My father has his own business, he paid for all major expenses. Although the salary at the Panacea Academy is significant, even for an assistant.”

The bell above the front door rang melodiously, and she stepped inside… I didn’t dare call her a middle-aged woman, more like a fairy. Light, thin, in an airy dark gray dress, so elegant and at the same time surprisingly simple that you can’t help but fall in love. Light wavy strands spilled out of a lush bun and framed a thin, beautiful face. “And no makeup,” I thought enchanted, “but she looks amazing. Everyone would do that. Magic? How old is she really? A little over forty?

– I’m sorry, Grisella, I saw that you were still open. Good evening. Shall I interfere? – the fairy woman looked at me with eyes as amazing as all of her – clear, bright, as if sunny, and suddenly smiled softly. – Miss Blair. What an unexpected meeting.

– Miss Norwood! – the master exclaimed in amazement, turning around. – Sabella, dear, how long have you been gone! Come on in, don't stand on the threshold. Cup of coffee? Tea? It’s always open for you, you know.

Norwood?! Really… oh my God, the dry-haired professor has such a mother?! Or is it my sister?

“Good evening,” I answered as neutrally as possible, so as not to betray my ignorance. It sounded warm – it was impossible not to smile in response to the smile of this amazing woman, who was endearing at first glance. “I’ve already chosen everything, so…

And she stammered in confusion. Politeness required assuring that “no, you won’t interfere in any way, and in general it’s time for me to go,” but to leave when the opportunity to find out something about the professor almost falls from the sky?! Even if the journalist’s habits didn’t resist, I’m not such a fool! But also to impose on communication, not knowing everything that Charlotte probably knows…

“Miss Blair, if you want to pick it up today, you’ll have to wait.” About fifteen minutes, no more, – the master very successfully came to the rescue. – Sabella, you…

– Don't worry, I'm in no hurry. And yes, I guess I’ll have some tea, as usual. Thank you, Grisella. Why don't you join me, Miss Blair? – She pointed to one of the round wicker tables on the opposite wall. Probably just for those… waiting ones.

– With pleasure!

Tea appeared in the same magical way as pizza. A pot-bellied teapot, two cups on saucers, a sugar bowl, a jug of milk… and lemon pudding with cinnamon, which finally removed the question of who was in front of me. Okay, almost definitively – the possibility of coincidences can never be discounted.

The tea smelled like mint and went wonderfully with the pudding – and the pudding was just as incredibly delicious as the pizza. Probably, in this world they cook exclusively with magic, and that’s why the magical result is obtained.